


This Sucks (Not In The Good Way)

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dysfunctional Relationships, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Open Relationships, Poor Life Choices, Public Sex, Sex Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 00:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Rodney may be a genius when it comes to understanding the universe, but he's made a poor choice when it comes to personal relationships. He finds a new chance at happiness in the most unlikely place ever.





	This Sucks (Not In The Good Way)

Rodney was half hard, but he could hardly be held accountable since it was merely an autonomic biological response to the lithe, naked bodies undulating all around him. He really wasn’t into the heavy bass of the music, or the strobing lights, or the casual sex happening everywhere he looked.

“Hey, good lookin’.” A young man approached Rodney’s table, wearing just a g-string and a matching gold vest.

Rodney waved him off. “Not interested.”

“Bitch,” the guy grumbled as he walked away.

He was the third one Rodney’d had to send away. The idea of hooking up with some random stranger held zero appeal for him.

Five minutes later someone else approached, thankfully fully dressed. He was one of the waiters, wearing a uniform Rodney would expect to see at a formal catered event and not at a gay sex club.

“Get you something to drink?” the waiter asked.

“Beer. Do you have anything Canadian?”

“Yup. Moosehead Lager and Dry Ice. Bottled, not draft.”

Rodney was pleasantly surprised. Usually the best he could do was Molson’s. “I’ll take a Dry Ice. Unopened.”

The guy nodded and wove his way back to the bar. He had a nice ass. And he didn’t seem at all concerned that he was brushing past a guy standing on a table swinging his junk around, and three guys that were little more than a tangle of arms and legs. Rodney supposed a person got inured to things if they were around them long enough.

The waiter returned in record time and set the unopened bottle of beer on a coaster, which Rodney found to be a ridiculous waste of cardboard. Were they seriously worried about rings when there were far stickier fluids being splashed around?

“If you’d like I can introduce you to some of the regulars,” the waiter said, tucking his little drink tray under his arm. “Unless you’re just here to watch, which is fine too.”

Rodney twisted the cap off his beer and took a long swallow. Good stuff. “I’m here with someone,” he said.

Marc was bent over a table near the bar with some guy’s tongue up his ass. Rodney supposed he’d become used seeing his boyfriend with other men, because instead of being angry or sick or disappointed all he felt was annoyed at having been dragged along. 

The waiter followed his sight line and when he turned back to look at Rodney his eyebrows were raised. “You’ll excuse me for saying so, but you don’t look like you’re getting much out of watching.”

“I’m not.”

“Huh. Be right back.” 

The waiter went back to the bar, leaning over to talk to the bartender. When he came back to Rodney’s table he dropped down into one of the empty chairs and popped the top on his own beer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rodney snapped. “I didn’t ask you to sit down.”

“I’m on my break.” The waiter propped his feet up on the other chair. “I don’t usually get the chance to talk to anyone but the other waiters.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like talking.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long minute, but Rodney had never done silences very well. They were a vacuum that he always felt compelled to fill.

“I didn’t want to come here,” he said abruptly.

“So why did you?”

“My boyfriend thinks we need to spice things up.” And it wasn’t like Rodney hadn’t been willing to entertain the idea of role-playing, or maybe introducing some toys in the mix, but Marc had wanted to watch Rodney get fucked by someone they picked up in a bar. They’d had a big fight about it. Rodney thought he’d won, but it turned out he hadn’t because instead Marc talked him into watching as _he_ got fucked by a random someone.

That had been six months ago.

“And this is the place he brought you to?” The waiter shook his head. “No offense, but you need to dump that guy.”

“That’s easy for you to say. With your looks you probably have people falling all over themselves to hook up with you.”

Rodney wasn’t exaggerating. The guy was incredibly good-looking: fit without being overly muscled, an overabundance of cowlicked hair that gave him a rakish appearance, and full lips that practically begged to be kissed. If Rodney wasn’t with Marc he’d definitely be interested.

The waiter huffed out a laugh. “I could say the same for you.”

“Oh, please. I’m no catch, a fact I’m well aware of. Too soft around the middle. Too abrasive with other people. Too focused on my work.” Rodney waved his hand for emphasis. “I can’t afford to let an attractive guy go just because…”

“Just because he dragged you to a sex club, where you clearly don’t want to be, and then abandoned you to get gang-banged?”

Rodney’s eyes darted back to Marc and he felt his stomach twist. His boyfriend was being roughly used by three other guys and was clearly enjoying every second of it. He tried to see if anyone was using condoms, which was their rule, but it was difficult to tell with the lights constantly flashing.

“Look, I know it’s none of my business,” the waiter said.

“No. It isn’t.”

“But you don’t seem happy. Is he really worth sticking with?”

Rodney tried to think of something to say in Marc’s defense. Sure, he had sexual appetites beyond what Rodney was able to give him. But that wasn’t all their relationship was made of. Outside of the bedroom Marc could be very sensitive to Rodney’s needs. He always made sure Rodney ate when he was working too hard to remember for himself, and he was a good cook.

It was better than living alone. Which sucked, and not in the good way.

“I don’t need advice from someone who works in a sex club,” Rodney said disdainfully. “What kind of job is that for a normal person?”

The waiter shrugged. “This is only a part-time gig. It’s helping me pay my way through grad school.”

“Let me guess. Fine arts? Ballet?”

“Mathematical and theoretical physics, actually,” the waiter replied. He winked and finished off his beer. “But I wouldn’t want to bore you with my thoughts on string theory and plasma physics.”

Rodney was aware that his mouth was gaping open like a landed fish, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t wrap his own not-insignificant intellect around the fact that the waiter with the slinky hips was some kind of science nerd. In a graduate program.

Marc was an insurance salesman.

“You’re familiar with cohomology?” Rodney finally managed to ask. It was the first thing that popped into his head.

Now the waiter was the one giving him a surprised look. “Yeah. I’d have to be to analyze free field realizations. You a science guy?”

“I’m working on the practical applications of zero-point energy.” Of course, that was just Rodney’s day job. On his off hours he was consumed by wormhole theory.

“Cool.”

Cool. The sexy waiter with the mathematician’s brain thought what he was doing was cool, because he understood it. Marc only ever gave Rodney a blank stare when he talked about his work.

“Looks like your boy is done.”

Rodney grimaced. The three guys were coming all over Marc, and he had the boneless, slack-faced look of a man who’d already reached his own completion. He’d have to go in the bathroom and clean himself off before Rodney would let him get in the car.

He sighed, and finished what was left of his beer. He threw a twenty on the table. “Thanks. For the conversation.”

The waiter leaned over and pulled a pen out of his back pocket. He pushed Rodney’s sleeve up and wrote on his arm. Seven digits. 

“Call me sometime. We can talk about quantum field theory, or anything else you want to talk about.”

Rodney stared at the phone number on his arm, already committing it to memory. “Why? I mean, you don’t even know me.”

“I know you deserve better than sitting around Club Lava waiting for your boyfriend to get laid. And I’d love to hear more about your project.” The waiter gave Rodney an intent look, and then he moved in to kiss him and, hell, Rodney had been right about those lips. 

He got up and started to leave, and Rodney snapped his fingers. “Wait! What’s your name?”

The waiter looked over his shoulder. “John,” he said with a smirk. And then he was gone.

John. Rodney touched his lips, still feeling the press of John’s against them. The sexy, smart waiter was attracted to him. That kind of thing didn’t happen to Rodney. Ever.

Marc stumbled over to the table, pulling his pants up. He had a dopey grin on his face. “Did you see how hot that was?”

Rodney looked at him and tried to feel…something. Anything. But there was nothing there. Maybe there never had been.

“I’m moving out,” Rodney said.

“What? Why?”

“I’m not this guy.” Rodney gestured at the whole of the club. “You are. You should find someone who wants that too.”

“We can try something else,” Marc insisted.

Rodney looked down at John’s phone number on his arm. “I intend to.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** My only explanation for this fic is that my muse was probably on another booze and porn bender. For reals.
> 
> Heartfelt thanks to [nagi_schwarz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz) for the hand-holding and reassurance that Rodney is not above making poor, poor decisions even though he's a certified brainiac. This fic likely would not have ever seen the light of day without her. Still not sure if that's a good thing or not.


End file.
